Читать книгу The Mysterious Arab - Percy Keese Fitzhugh - Страница 6

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A red sun was streaming into Hal’s berth when he awakened. He rubbed his sleepy eyes and sat in silent wonder for five minutes contemplating the vast plain which rolled on and on to distant hills bathed in a violet light. Here and there a thorn bush or acacia stood like a silent sentinel watching over the numerous herds of game that roamed the plains on either side of the tracks.

He picked out some long-necked giraffe from the swarming company, also a few ostriches and gasped audibly at the sight of a group of zebra whose striped coats gleamed in the sunlight. Then the train puffed into a station where a few natives lolled about clad in skins and “mother hubbards.” Their happy, grinning faces belied the belligerent aspect which the spears and shields depending from their black, glistening hands gave them.

Hal got to his feet. “So this is Africa!” he exclaimed with a happy sigh.

“And it’s no joke, believe me, Keen,” Piney said in a gentle chiding tone as he leaned over his berth and peered down at the boy. “It gets on a fellow’s nerves sometimes—maybe you’ll understand why Doc Holman’s taken to beating up people. Just wait till you’re here a little while.”

Hal was at a loss for an answer and as Piney set about dressing immediately he was saved from the necessity of making a commonplace remark and said nothing more concerning the dark continent during the rest of the journey into Nairobi.

Dudley Holman was waiting in a dusty car at the station, with a smile. “A sad looking little guy,” was what Hal wrote home to his mother, “with gray eyes that make him look as if he’s always crying when he isn’t.” He had a quaver in his voice when he greeted Piney after explanations had been made. Apologetically, he said he hoped that Mr. Piney would like working for his father.

Hal laughed. “Don’t worry about that, Dud,” said he fraternally, “I’ve told Mr. Piney that your father isn’t any Gabriel. That was all right, wasn’t it?”

Dudley Holman seemed to take a complete measurement of Hal as he smiled. “I guess anything’s all right that you say or do,” he said with a happy little chuckle. “Your Uncle Denis (I’ve always called him that too, ever since I was a kid) said I could always depend on you—that you hardly ever forgot anything.”

“Gosh!” Hal exclaimed modestly. “Unk must have been thinking of the things I’m supposed to forget and don’t, huh? But never mind, Dud, you’ll see me as Unk’s never seen me. Piney says Africa gets on a feller’s nerves sometimes, so look out! Maybe I’ll run amuck. It never affected you that way, did it?”

Dudley shook his head ruefully, “One in the family is enough and sometimes too much, believe me.” He looked about for a moment: “Where’s your baggage?”

“That’s what I was just wondering,” said Hal, peering easily over the heads of the noisy throng swarming back and forth from the train. “I told the porter to bring our bags here and he said he would. Mm, there seems to be some delay,” he added, shading his eyes from the sun with a strong, tanned hand. “There’s a little crowd collected about one of the cars and the porters and conductors all seem to be talking at once. A couple of your nice black cops too.”

“He’ll never need a ladder to find out what’s going on in a crowd,” said Mr. Piney facetiously. “Can you see what they say, Keen?”

“No, but I’m going over and find out,” Hal answered determinedly and strolled over toward the crowd with a long, swinging stride.

He was gone but a moment and came back with a frown of perplexity on his bright face.

“What’s up?” asked Dudley.

“You’ve got me. They won’t let anybody near that one car—it’s the one that was next to ours. Our porter was standing there talking to one of the policemen and I tried to get his attention, but I couldn’t. Then a conductor asked me what I wanted and I told him about our bags. He said he’d see that we get them in a few minutes but do you think he’d tell me what the rumpus was about? Not on your life!”

“You were too anxious!” said Piney with a short laugh.

Hal shook his head with annoyance and continued to keep his eyes over the throng. Dudley made small talk in that quavering voice of his and was unmistakably happy. There was not the slightest doubt that he looked upon his tall, red-haired visitor as a sort of demi-god.

“I never had a fellow my own age to loaf around with,” he said in a burst of confidence to Piney. “It’s going to be great!”

Piney asked, “How about your father?”

“Dad’s got a respect and liking for Uncle Denis that he’s never had for any other man,” answered Dudley proudly. “He’ll feel that same way toward Hal—I know it!”

A ghost of a smile lingered about the corners of Piney’s mouth but he said nothing. Hal caught sight of the shining ebony face of the porter coming through the crowd laden with luggage. He opened his mouth in a smile displaying two rows of gleaming teeth.

Hal hurried forward and, giving him a playful nudge, relieved him of a few bags. “What’s the matter, big boy—something up?” he asked with an engaging grin.

“Yassuh, yassuh!” said the black man excitedly. “Dey is lots up. Conduc’ah says Bwana in next car found dead when we come in station. Big man in compar’ment gone, yassuh!”

Hal ran his fingers through his hair. “It wasn’t a half-caste, was it?” he asked and seeing the porter’s perplexity, added: “I mean it wasn’t a sort of Arab fellow—big and kind of dark, that got away.”

“Yassuh, yassuh,” grinned the porter. “He Bwana’s frien’. He kill I guess.”

Hal reimbursed the man and after watching him walk away turned to his friends. Dudley was watching him closely.

“You seem to have known this half-caste, Hal,” he said with a little smile.

“I could have known him better,” Hal grinned and turning to Piney, asked: “Couldn’t I have, bub?”

Piney was visibly agitated and white and his smile was obviously an effort. “You ought to know, Keen,” he murmured faintly. “You ought to know.”

Hal frowned and at Dudley’s request got into the car.